


Patience and Precision

by hesterbyrde



Series: Words are Living Things [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of a Case, Anal Sex, BDSM, Cock Rings, Dom Hannibal, Dom/sub, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Nipple Torture, No Spoilers, Oral Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Season 1, Sub Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 03:59:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11751540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesterbyrde/pseuds/hesterbyrde
Summary: Will drove himself straight from the crime scene to Hannibal's house. He wasn't even halfway up the porch steps when the door cracked open to reveal Hannibal's chiseled face, his features all the sharper with lines of confusion and concern."Will, I wasn't expecting you. Is everything alright?" he asked, pulling the door open to allow Will inside.Will took in the sight for a moment, making a slow fuss of taking off his coat and brushing his shoes on the mat. Hannibal was not in a suit. Not even in casual wear. Rather he was wearing a pair of soft grey lounge pants and a cable knit red sweater. Will had the sudden urge to press his face into the fabric and see if the crimson yarn was as soft as it looked.





	Patience and Precision

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings all! Welcome to my submission for Bottom!Hannibal Day!
> 
> Yes, you read the tags right. Bottom!Hannibal and Dom!Hannibal are indeed both correct.
> 
> Many thanks to KaminaDuck for beta reading on very short notice. Please let me know if you see any errors in grammar or spelling.
> 
> And please... if you're going to engage in play like this, do your research first. This is definitely not a how-to. And communicate with your partner, regardless of who's sub and who's dom. Be safe!

pa·tience  
ˈpāSHəns/

1\. the bearing of provocation,misfortune, or pain, without complaint, loss of temper, or irritation  
2\. an ability or willingness to suppress restlessness or annoyance when confronted with delay  
3\. quiet, steady perseverance; even-tempered care; diligence

pre·ci·sion  
prəˈsiZHən/

1\. accuracy; exactness  
2\. mechanical or scientific exactness:  
3\. punctiliousness; strictness:

***

Will stared at the three women in the park, and then looked down at the snapshot in his hands. Nothing but static filled his head. He couldn't hear anything. Not the birds, or the wind, or Zeller's endless chattering.

This wasn't right. Nothing about this was right. It was Cassie Boyle all over again. And just like before, no one else could see it. Sure, it was The Photographer's MO. Photograph left at the scene. And the scene recreated in taxidermied still life.

Except it wasn't. Not exactly anyway. It was the same three women, and their facial expressions and clothes were spot on, but the pose wasn't right. The picture had shown three women smiling at each other, one with her hand outstretched to show a glistening diamond ring. But the scene before him was… something else. They almost seemed engaged in a dance. A twirl around a non-existent maypole. 

"It's the Graces." Beverly Katz chimed in, making Will, who had been mid pendulum swing, nearly jump out of his skin. She had just arrived on the scene, and trudged up the hill with a healthy thermos of piping hot coffee in hand.

"The… whats?" Price asked with a frown, looking up from his clipboard.

"It's the Graces. Like… mythology? They're all over the place in art. Raphael. Reubens, Botticelli? Not ringing any bells?"

"How the hell do you know this stuff?" Zeller asked.

"I took a semester of art history in college." Beverly answered, lifting one shoulder in a lazy half shrug. "The teacher specialized in Renaissance art and had just come back from sabbatical. At the time it was that or Ethics in Engineering."

"What… no poetry classes?" Will quipped, trying to smile.

She smiled enough for both of them, visibly relieved to see Will teasing a little at a crime scene. So much so that she offered him a sip of her coffee. "I needed a humanities credit… not literature. So what are we thinking?"

"It's not the Photographer." Will said, turning back to the three taxidermied women as his fledgling smile faded. He could feel the skeptical stares from Zeller and Price boring into the back of his head. "That's about all I know for sure."

"It's not? You're sure?" Zeller asked. "Like with Cassie Boyle?"

Will's face bunched up, half in thought and half to block out the midmorning sun. "I wouldn't go in front of a grand jury and say it's the same killer just yet, but… yeah like that."

"Talk me through it." Beverly said, taking a long drink from her thermos.

Will almost smiled again. That was Beverly. Giving him a chance to explain it, as if he could. He gave her what he could put into words. "It's too soon after the last one. It's been three weeks. Usually it's nearly a year for The Photographer. His shortest interval was just shy of eleven months. Much too soon."

"You know that won't be good enough for Jack." Beverly counseled, lowering her voice a touch. "I'm not disagreeing with you. I just know there's more than that."

"Just… it's not a replication of the photo. Look." He handed the snapshot to her and let her study it. "Not even close to the same pose. They were posed like… well, you recognized it. The Three Graces?"

"Yeah, here." Beverly handed the picture back and then pulled up an image on her phone of a sculpture. Three women with joined hands, captured in marble. They both studied the statue and then looked at the scene. "That's… pretty much it, ya think?"

Will nodded stiffly. "That's it."

"You don't think this killer is… shaking up their method? Changing it up?" 

Will shook his head slowly, his eyes drifting over the three women. The Three Graces. "Not yet." He murmured.

Beverly frowned. "What do you mean not yet?"

"It's… it's not the same MO. Same method yes, but not the same reason." Will explained, still not looking at them. "Our killer is not interested in creating fine art. He's interested in recreating life. Moments. The things that happen in the photographs he takes. This is not that. This is something and someone else. It has to be."

"So it's a copycat?" Beverly supplied, clearly chewing on those words before she said them out loud.

Will nodded. "And made no secret of it either. This killer could have copied stroke for stroke. Freddie Lounds made sure every detail was on the internet for any aspiring "artist" to see. And they clearly have the aptitude."

"But if you're a copycat, why make it so obvious that you're not the real thing?" Zeller asked, wandering a little closer to rejoin the conversation.

WIll only shrugged and shook his head, pacing in circles. Why… why… the question plagued him as he stared at their smiling, dead-eyed faces. Why would someone do this? The Photographer he understood. But why someone would want to not just copy him, but elevate his work… elevate it to art.

His head swam and he saw Cassie Boyle's impaled lungless body in the middle of the Graces' round. A photo negative of the Shrike's victims. Practically gift-wrapped. The crows had gotten to her. But they weren't interested in this work of art… 

"Is there a photography exhibit in Baltimore?" he asked, eyes still closed.

Beverly frowned at his strange inquiry, but already had her phone in hand. "There's an extensive exhibit at the Baltimore Museum of Art."

"Does… is there a place where you can learn about photo development. Or a darkroom on the premises?"

A few more flicks of her thumb gave an answer. "Looks like there is? They have photography workshops on every first and third Tuesday."

Will shook himself hard. "We need to look at their registry. See who's signed up for classes. And who teaches them. I think… I think our copycat is pointing us towards a possible lead."

***

Will drove himself straight from the crime scene to Hannibal's house. He wasn't even halfway up the porch steps when the door cracked open to reveal Hannibal's chiseled face, his features all the sharper with lines of confusion and concern.

"Will, I wasn't expecting you. Is everything alright?" he asked, pulling the door open to allow Will inside.

Will took in the sight for a moment, making a slow fuss of taking off his coat and brushing his shoes on the mat. Hannibal was not in a suit. Not even in casual wear. Rather he was wearing a pair of soft grey lounge pants and a cable knit red sweater. Will had the sudden urge to press his face into the fabric and see if the crimson yarn was as soft as it looked.

"We've got another copycat murder." Will said sharply, shaking himself to remove both the temptation of the sweater and the image of the dead women dancing around Cassie Boyle's body.

"Like the girl in Minnesota?"

"I think so. The more I think about it, the more I'm certain. It's like he's trying to get me to see something that's right in front of me. Like… I'd get it eventually, but the Copycat is leaving me a hint."

Hannibal's face pursed into a frown. "That is unsettling to say the least."

"To say the very least." Will agreed. He stopped moving halfway through hanging up his coat. "I'm… I'm sorry, this is probably a bad time and you're probably tuning your harpsichord or something."

Hannibal shook his head sternly and drew himself up to full height as he stepped into Will's space. "Not at all. Your presence is never unwelcome."

Will glanced up at him to see if he was lying. He couldn't tell, but he decided he could tell the truth at least. "I just… I didn't know where else to go. I didn't want to go home and be alone."

Something unnamable flickered across Hannibal's face. "Home is… alone now?"

Will frowned, trying not to list into the gravity of Hannibal's frame. "I… I guess it's gotten to be, yeah. I mean, I still like being by myself, but… after something like this I…" He trailed off, mouth working around words he didn't seem quite ready to say yet. 

Hannibal slipped an arm around Will's shoulders, corralling him out of the doorway and into the kitchen. "Are you hungry?" 

Will, fighting for all he was worth not to lean into Hannibal's ribs, shook his head. "I had a big lunch. And after seeing that crime scene today, I don't think I could really eat anything right now."

"Would you like some tea at least?"

"Sure." Will shrugged, letting Hannibal arrange him at the breakfast bar before attending to the kettle. "I'm not usually one for tea, but I wasn't a wine person, or a foie gras person, or a cognac person before I met you."

Hannibal smiled, one of his sharp canines peeking out from the veil of his lips. "I won't pretend I'm not pleased."

"Don't. You're a terrible actor in that regard." Will said, biting back his own smirk. He was already starting to feel better.

"Tea can sometimes be as much about the process as the product." Hannibal mused as he fetched a tray with a porcelain teapot and matching teacups, arranging them as Will imagined he might have ordered his surgical equipment once upon a time. "For example, in China, the accoutrements of tea making are as much about form as function. Even the folding of the napkin performs a role in setting the tone and energy of an encounter. And the Japanese have an entire ceremony centering around the making of tea, be it for oneself or a guest. It's quite meditative in its own right. Precise steps striving to achieve the perfection that is no less worthy of pursuit for its unattainability."

Will found himself agreeing, not so much with Hannibal's words, but rather he found himself lulled by the action. And the sound of Hannibal's voice, soothing and deep as he worked. Will followed his hands as he measured, and poured, and stirred. All economical and easy, as if he'd done this a thousand times before. A thin sliver of time stretched out on either side of the present. In one direction lay all the times and ways Hannibal had made tea in the past. He could see them vividly as shadows overlaid on the moment at hand. And then out into the future Will could see this happening again… and again… and it was no less special for the repetition. It made something in Will's chest ache with fondness...

"Are you alright, Will?" Hannibal was proffering his little white teacup, with the barest pinch of a frown.

"Sorry… got a little lost. Guess you were right about the meditative quality of tea making." he gave a weak smile as he took the cup. "Can't say I've ever had the pleasure before."

Hannibal gave a little smile at that, the thrill of giving Will a new experience written plainly in the sparkle of his eyes. "Then perhaps sometime I will take you to a teahouse in D.C. and let you experience the real thing. Not this pale comparison given by a loquacious host."

"I think this suits me just fine." Will replied, before taking a sip. It was good. And fragrant enough to make his head spin a little. "Do you want to hear about the case?"

"If you're ready to talk about it." Hannibal replied. "You needn't feel obliged."

"Would you rather wait for our appointment next week?"

"We are friends and colleagues first, before we are doctor and patient. You've shown up on my doorstep in a great deal of distress. I would be a poor friend to not give you the chance to give voice to it."

Will drew up short at that. "Is that what we are, Hannibal? Friends?"

He hesitated for a sluggish heartbeat. "I feel any other common labels would imply a good deal more personal entanglement than we have previously discussed." Hannibal replied carefully, crunching around on the words like dry bones. "And so I would not presume."

"Fair enough." Will responded, taking another long sip. He could feel the liquid seeping into his bones, warming him up from the chill of the case. "Truth be told, I don't know if talking about it will help."

"And yet you are here, so clearly there is something that might help. Something you've chosen to seek here." The barest hint of a wry smile pulled at his mouth as he added, "And we've already established that you are not a tea drinker.

Will nodded, drawing a slow, steadying breath. "I wondered if we… could do that thing again. That we did with the last one of these cases and I needed to… clear my head?"

"The nipple clamps." Hannibal bit the words off so neatly Will nearly flinched at the honesty of it.

"Yeah. Those. It… helped." He could feel a blush wicking up his face.

"The pain helped you focus, I recall."

"You helped me focus." Will corrected. "But yeah… the pain too. And… I remembered on the drive over here that you promised me something."

Hannibal pouted his ample lips and feigned puzzlement. "What was that?"

"I… that the next time we played with those that… that you would make it worse? More? I… I don't really know."

"But what did I promise you specifically?" Hannibal asked. An edge had crept into his tone. One that brooked no argument and held Will fast in its grip.

Will swallowed hard, staring unblinking at the swooping arch of the teacup handle. "You said that you would… put a cockring on me to keep me from coming, and then you'd fuck me."

"To what end?"

"U-until I beg."

"Until you beg." Hannibal repeated as if savoring the words. "I think I can manage that. But with a slight change of plans."

"What change?"

Hannibal shook his head. "You'll see. Follow me upstairs when you've finished your tea." he said as he swept from the kitchen. "Take your time."

Will did take his time drinking his tea, even though he wanted to down it in a single scalding gulp. He didn't fail to notice that the impulse was driven by equal parts lust for pain and impatience. But he felt as if the pain he craved was Hannibal's to give. His right. 

And the tea did taste good.

It felt strange being alone in Hannibal's kitchen. He couldn't recall ever having been before. It seemed… cavernous and foreboding without him there. Like an operating theatre or funeral chapel without Hannibal bustling about, apron wrapped around him like a cassock, and the air full of stories and rhythmic chopping.

Upstairs, Will found that Hannibal had seen to appointing the bedroom. Fresh sheets, white this time. And the nipple clamps on their chain already out of the box and draped over the pillow case. Will stared at them for a long time, giving the bed a wide berth, as if the metal clamps might spring to life and attach themselves of their own volition.

Hannibal sensed his wariness, however irrational and gave him a soothing and placating smile. He extended one hand and beckoned, and Will rushed to him, suddenly overwhelmed with eagerness to have those steady, precise hands all over his body. It was a little embarrassing truth be told, but Will knew it was far too late to be shy about his wantonness. Still he let his head droop as he moved across the room to Hannibal, unable to look him in the eye.

They fell together all at once with practiced ease. Hands and lips claiming their rightful places. It turned out the sweater really was as soft as it looked, and Will buried his face in it for a moment and just breathed. The relief that flooded through Will at the first touch was dizzying. He rested his forehead against Hannibal's, pulling their bodies flush together. The sigh that escaped him was taut with tension, and Hannibal seemed to sense it. 

Will half expected to be comforted. To be given some semblance of "There there. This too shall pass." But it never came. Hannibal seemed more intent on caressing every curve and hollow of Will's frame. More interested in possessing than in comforting. And Will was grateful for that. He didn't want to be soothed. He didn't want to be healed.

He discovered in that moment, that he wanted to burn.

Hannibal's hands grew busier, no longer content to just caress. He made short work of Will's shirt and pants. Will glanced down to see his erection already at half mast, tenting his boxers. He really was going to need that cockring if he was going to last.

"So, what were you planning?" Will asked, his voice husky. "That was different from what you… promised?" He almost said "threatened" but it hadn't felt like a threat. Even "promise" was too flippant a word. Hannibal had practically vowed to make him beg.

Hannibal smiled, pulling Will to sit on the bed. The nipple clamps on their beaded chain shifted slightly on their resting place, glinting wickedly in the dim light and catching Will's eye. But Hannibal quickly regained his attention as he began to divest himself of his own clothing. Will felt overwhelmed at the desire to touch Hannibal again. To feel his skin, his heavily corded muscles, and the tickle of his chest hair.

"I still intend to truss you up with your clamps. You do make such a pretty picture that way." Hannibal replied after letting Will look his fill. "And seeing as you're already quite aroused, I think the cockring is a must."

Will gave a jerky nod of agreement.

"But I think rather than you riding my cock, it would be a much more… intense experience for you to fuck me." 

Will nearly choked on air at the bluntness of Hannibal's words. He had to swallow twice to gather enough of his wits to respond and even then it was only with a flustered, "What?"

"I can't imagine a better scenario. You on top of me, fucking away to your heart's content, but unable to come and unable to escape the agony you've agreed to." Hannibal's pleased, predatory smile could have cut glass.

Will didn't respond immediately, though he could feel his body responding. His cock was suddenly rock hard at the image of himself on top of Hannibal, thrusting wildly and to no avail. He could feel a blush spreading over his skin at the thought.

"Is this agreeable to you?" Hannibal asked.

"I… if it is to you." Will replied. "I mean… You've done that before, yeah? This… this probably wouldn't be a good way to have your first time with that…"

"Quite right." Hannibal agreed. "Has your safeword changed?"

"No. It's still Kershaw."

"If you have no other concerns, I'd like to begin."

Will just shook his head, his mouth going dry.

Hannibal helped him out of his boxers and guided him onto his back in the center of the bed. As Will made himself comfortable, the sheets warming to his already overheated skin, Hannibal rid himself of his underwear as well and placed their bottle of lube in easy reach on the bedside table. Beside it, he placed a cock ring made of thick, black silicon rubber. Will swallowed hard, his eyes flicking between the cock ring and the nipple clamps that lay on the pillow beside his head.

"I think we'll do these first." Hannibal said, straddling Will's thighs and taking up the clamps on their heavy chain. He leaned down, taking Will's left nipple into his mouth. At first Will was only aware of the sensations of warm and wet, but then he felt the edge of Hannibal's teeth and he jumped. Hannibal sucked harder, as if he could swallow down every jerk and twitch. Then quickly pulled away and clamped the jewelry in place. Will cried out a little, whether out of relief or pain, neither were sure.

Hannibal took his time securing the second clamp, content to spend a long while laving the sensitive flesh with his tongue as he intermittently pulled on the chain connected to the other nipple. Will twisted under his ministrations, like an insect caught in a spider's web. Desperate to get free, but continually entangling itself as it struggled. 

Will's cock grew thick and heavy between them, jutting up against his stomach. It twitched and leaked copiously as Hannibal affixed the second clamp and gave a sharp tug to the chain. Will nearly sat upright in the bed as he did so with a harsh cry. Hannibal pressed him back down onto the mattress with a languorous kiss.

"Now for the second part of my promise." Hannibal said, as if he were commenting on recipe ingredients. He fetched the cockring and slid it down the length of Will's cock. Will bit his lips, forcing himself not to follow Hannibal's hands with either his eyes or his body.

Hannibal could see the effort and smiled. "You are eager aren't you?" he crooned. "It's as if these clamps give you permission to be wanton."

"Y-you like the way I look in them." Will managed to grind out as Hannibal hooked the ring over his balls and gave them a gentle roll. 

"It's not just the gold against your skin I desire to see. Or even how rosy and plump they leave your nipples. They are a means to an end." Hannibal replied with a gallant shrug, giving the chain another pull and earning himself another vocal gasp. "They focus you in a very unique way."

"That's… an understatement."

Hannibal's smile was a thing of cold, pleasured ferocity. "Tell me." He said softly. "I'm going to suck your cock for awhile, and hold this chain taut so you can't move without hurting yourself further, and you're going to tell me how it feels. And why you like it."

Will cinched his eyes shut. "God, I'll never be able to look you in the eye during therapy again."

"You certainly won't be able to look me in the eye right now." Hannibal replied, shimmying down the bed to position himself over Will's angry red cock. He took the chain in one hand, and Will's hipbone in the other and licked a long stripe up the length of Will's shaft. It sent Will arching up off the bed, only to collapse again when the strain from the clamps proved too much.

"Lie still." Hannibal advised, his breath tickling the underside of Will's cock. "And tell me."

He waited until Will began to speak, and even though it was somewhat incoherent at first, Hannibal could practically taste the aching need in the words. 

"I… I… It makes me present." Will finally worked out. "Like… I'm here with you not… not far away. Hannibal…"

At the sound of his name, Hannibal sucked Will down as far as he could take him, reveling in the sensation of Will's pulse between his teeth. For his part, Will managed to stay still, though his whole body went taut as a bowstring. 

"The clamps hurt… but it's like ice in my head." Will went on, every word a struggle to prise from behind his teeth. "When I have to deal with cases like this one. It's… It's like… It's like static in my head. Everything's fuzzy and swimming and moving and I'm just trying to get the pieces to line up. But… but the pain… and with you… It's like everything freezes."

Hannibal pulled off for a moment to look up at him, eyes raking over his whole body. A light sheen of sweat had broken out on his flushed skin, reflecting the dim glow of the lamps, making him shine. "With me?"

Will nodded, trying and failing to hold Hannibal's gaze. He dropped back against the pillows, pulling inadvertently at the clamps and sending himself arching back up with a ragged gasp. 

"Tell me…" Hannibal said, letting the words tickle over Will's engorged shaft.

"It's… it's different with you. You know that." Will ground out. He knew Hannibal would be unsatisfied with that answer.

"Mmm... " Hannibal hummed, the vibrations making Will's nerves sing. He pulled at the chain but only enough to give warning. "But how is it different?"

"I… I…" Will whined high in his throat as Hannibal took to licking him slowly from root to tip. He clearly wanted to talk this through. Now. While he had Will at his mercy. "It's hard to put into words." he managed, stalling for time to try and work out a real answer. Or perhaps hoping to just placate him.

"I know, darling." Hannibal replied between licks. "But it's far from the hardest thing you do in your life. You can tell me when you're ready."

It was the "darling" that made Will moan this time. It was the first time Hannibal had ever called him by a pet name. Any pet name. He'd have blanched at anyone else. He hated pet names. Even when Beverly would call him "cupcake" as a joke. But something about Hannibal saying it. The possessiveness in his tone and how diminutive the name made Will feel. How formal, and prideful, and claiming. And that thought suddenly had Will talking again.

"When I'm working… It's like I've been thrown out to blow in the breeze. A… a… a boat with a sail but no rudder. I feel… grounded when I'm with you. So much so that it's… it's hard to even think about anything else. Right now, I can't even recall how I felt today at the crime scene. That's part of why it's hard to talk about. I just… I'm so far away from all that when I'm with you." Will finally managed.

He was rewarded with Hannibal once again sucking him down to the base, and this time the pressure was firm and constant. With slow undulating swallows, Hannibal took him deeper and deeper, until Will was almost certain he was deepthroating him. But he couldn't bring himself to look. Even just imagining it, he'd have come but for the cockring. Instead the pressure just kept building. Will labored to suck in air, straining for air against the swallowing darkness opening within and without. Everything felt strained. Inflamed. Engorged. And he felt so impossibly vulnerable.

Suddenly, he felt the sharp edge of his safeword balanced on his tongue. It was too much. He'd said too much. Admitted he needed Hannibal too much. But he swallowed it, and begged instead, and admitted to himself at long last that he didn't want this to stop. He wanted more.

"Please, Hannibal." he said with a ragged whisper, pulling against the chain of his own volition. "Please… it hurts." He wasn't sure what he meant. His nipples. His balls. Something else...

Hannibal pulled off again, a thin trail of spit still connecting him to Will's throbbing cock. He decadently licked his lips to break it. "What do you want?"

"What you promised." Will answered through labored breath.

"I won't make that any easier on you."

"I know."

"Alright." Hannibal said, letting go of the chain and crawling up to lie next to Will. "The lube is on the bedside table. Use quite a bit please."

The reality of what he'd asked for came crashing back to him again. "I'll be gentle." Will quipped with a smirk meant to hide his unease.

Hannibal tugged sharply on the chain in warning. "It isn't long before you're mouthy again I see." He retorted, an answering smile painting his words.

Will leaned up and kissed him. It felt like a bold thing to do in the circumstances, but he couldn't resist. Even as his desperation ebbed for some things, he still had an unquenchable desire to be close to Hannibal. To feel the edge of his teeth somewhere soft.

Hannibal allowed himself to be kissed for a moment, content to let Will explore as a reward for his patience and his diligence in describing his own feelings. But it wasn't long before he took control again, pulling Will on top of him.

"The lube." he reminded Will, gently when they broke the kiss.

Will just nodded, as he found his breath through parted, kiss-reddened lips. He poured a generous amount onto his fingers as Hannibal maneuvered them both into position.

"I'm going to leave these on." Hannibal said, twirling one of the onyx beads on the chain between his long fingers. "I think I like the idea of directing you with them."

Will nodded, even though somewhere in the logical part of his mind, he recognized that it wasn't a question. He was too busy worrying about prep for some reason. He'd done it this way before, so it wasn't anything new. But not with Hannibal. He'd never even thought about it. 

"You can take your time." Hannibal coaxed. "But don't make me wait."

Will nodded again and set to work, pressing the pads of his fingers against Hannibal's tight, puckered entrance. He started off with slow circles, pressing down and letting the lube send him sliding around the ring of muscle. It wasn't long before he felt it give, and the tip of his forefinger slipped inside. Will was so focused on the action. On feeling Hannibal's body responding to him, that his own need and pain seemed forgotten. Fading to just a simmer, even as his focus sharpened. It was a different kind of arousal. 

"That's it." Hannibal crooned, combing his fingers through Will's hair as he luxuriated in the attention like a great cat. All stretching corded muscles and a satisfied grin. 

Will worked him open with great care. First just one finger. Then two, questing deeper and deeper. And then crooking until they could stroke over the soft bulge of Hannibal's prostate. A low groan worked its way up Hannibal's throat, a ferocious and feral sound. His cock leaked profusely over his belly and Will, unable to help himself, leaned down to lick it up, sucking the swollen head clean as Hannibal gasped for breath above him. They stayed like that for a long time with Will working him, and eagerly lapping up the mess. The embers of his desire that had died down earlier suddenly roared back to life. 

"Now." Hannibal said roughly, pulling none too gently on his hair. "I want you inside me now."

Will allowed himself to be dragged, blushing at how much he enjoyed this sort of treatment. He felt pleasantly empty… hollowed out, but able to be filled up. To be used and given purpose. A purpose he had no reason to fear…

As Hannibal manipulated him into position between his spread thighs, he took hold of the chain. He gave it a gentle tug, and said, "Time your thrusts with this. I will guide you in order to please myself. You'll be allowed to come after I do. Do you understand?"

Will gave a jerky nod and reached between his legs to take hold of himself. His cock was swollen, and cherry red. It almost hurt to touch, but he still wanted to be inside Hannibal. Even though he knew it would be unbearable.

"Whenever you're ready."

Will wanted to say that he was ready the moment he came upstairs, but the sarcasm withered and died when he slipped inside. The hot, greedy clutch of Hannibal's yielding body was incredible and overwhelming. Will almost felt as if he was falling forward as he sank down to the root, crying out as he did so. It was too much. He had known it would be too much. But he couldn't stop himself from moving.

But as soon as he did, Hannibal jerked on the chain, and Will screamed. His whole body felt like a single nerve, raw and bare and only meant to experience. He couldn't think or process. He could only receive and react.

"Slowly." Hannibal's voice somehow made it through the icy fog in Will's skull. "That's it."

Somehow Will's body was responding. He could feel the pressure on his nipples but not as keenly, so long as he followed the ebb and flow. The pain lessened, but the pressure didn't.

"You're exquisite like this." Hannibal said, his voice soothing and cool. "I didn't think you'd let me take you this far, but I think you like being challenged. Pushed to the brink. So long as you know there is a reward."

Will nodded lazily. 

"You want to come so badly, I know." Hannibal cradled Will's face in his free hand, and Will found himself nuzzling into it. "But you're willing to torture yourself to give me what I want. I think you might enjoy my orgasm more than your own."

Again, Will nodded. All faculty of speech had fled in the wake of the sensation of Hannibal's tight, wet hole clutching Will's overstimulated cock. All he could do was follow the tug of the chain, working himself inside Hannibal with long undulating strokes. And Hannibal seemed to have abandoned himself to it as well. He articulated the chain as if it were the reins of a dressage horse sending Will's whole frame rolling and rippling.

He directed the strokes to become faster, and sharper, until Will was pounding into him with all his strength. When Hannibal came he was all bared teeth and savagery. Will could only watch as the black thing he always only glimpsed, half hidden in his shadowed eyes raised its head for a brief moment. He stared up at Will as if he might consume him. And for once, Will couldn't look away, like a startled deer. 

But the images of prey and predator vanished as soon as they coalesced. Hannibal clumsily reached down to where they were joined and released the clasp on Will's cockring, and Will joined him with his own release. Though it was hardly a release. The orgasm crashed through him, leaving him boneless and screaming as Hannibal held onto him as if he might wash away in the tide of their mingling ecstasy.

They laid together for a long while, letting sanity and language gather once again in their heads. They trailed touches, and traded kisses as if the other was a holy relic to be cherished.

"I should take these off." Hannibal said, indicating the clamps.

Will gingerly pushed himself up enough that he could reach them. As each golden clamp came off, he could feel his spent cock twitch where it was still buried inside Hannibal and he couldn't repress a thin whimper. Then he collapsed back down again, reveling in the feel of Hannibal's chest hair tickling the overstimulated nubs. Hannibal cradled him there for a long time, combing his fingers through his curls and letting them both drift uninterrupted through the post pleasure haze.

Then Hannibal carefully placed Will on his back, finding somewhat unexpectedly that he was still numb and pliant. Then he fetched a soft damp rag and a pair of lounge pants for each of them. He had foregone the shirt this time, remembering that Will's nipples would be sore.

"Thank you," Will murmured after they had both gotten cleaned up and dressed for bed. 

"It's no trouble." Hannibal replied softly, climbing into bed next to Will and cradling him so close that their noses brushed.

"Don't." Will answered flatly.

Hannibal raised his head, his brow pinching with a frown. "Don't what?"

"Don't… say that it's no trouble. It is. I'm a lot of trouble. Who the hell else do you know that has to go to the lengths of nipple torture to get any therapy done."

Hannibal's frown deepened as he pulled Will closer. "I don't believe that it was the only means to that end." He replied. "Merely a shorter route that presented itself and our circumstances were such that we could take advantage of it." He pulled back and smiled down at Will. It was an oddly warm expression on his usually sharp face. Not a true smile. His ample lips barely bent. But it gathered and kindled in his eyes with a fondness that made Will ache. "You aren't too much trouble." he affirmed softly. "Save when you get mouthy." 

"You wouldn't be the first person to say I'm too much trouble." Will said, fighting the grin that threatened to break his solemn expression. "That's all I'm saying."

"You let me decide what's too much trouble for me." Hannibal said, a little sternness creeping into his voice. 

Will took another long, hard look at him, searching his inky dark eyes for some sign that he was telling the truth. Or that he was lying. He still found neither. But the tight circle of his arms, and the intense orgasm they'd shared earlier were powerful arguments for the case of just leaving it alone. He could feel his eyelids getting heavy as he sank into the impossibly soft bed. Will leaned up and stole a kiss from Hannibal's capacious mouth before letting sleep finally pull him under.

***


End file.
